Carnethy 5 Hill Race 11/2/06
There are as many bad things about the Carnethy 5 as good. Especially when the weather is so inclement. Standing around in that sodden field waiting for everyone to assemble, stripping down to racing kit in the sort of temperatures you wouldn't walk the dog, sploshing through that swamp, marching up long, long hills, hands on knees, gasping, and negotiating the worst possible route down a heathery ankle twisting hill once you are thoroughly wrung out by all the climbing......
So we decided to sidestep the annual masochist's waltz this year for the first time in 6 years. Until a possé from the lakes - home of lunatic fell running - let us know they were signed up for Carnethy and looking forward to this scamper in the Pentlands. It seemed churlish not to join in. Reluctantly we added our names to the huge list.
When we left our flat it seemed pleasant outdoors but somehow by the time we arrived - with over 450 other runners - at that soggy field, it was so baltic that I found myself shouting involuntary obscenities at the top of my voice while changing into shorts and top. Unlike Werner who reported running in 5 layers, I kept it to a long sleeved top with a running vest above but wore an earband and gloves to avoid frostbite. Most wore tights rather than shorts. As we mooched around the start line a very chipper Tony Stapley came over to mingle with fellow PRCers. As he eschews road-running in favour of mountains and mud we rarely see him except for these off-the-beaten-track affairs.
After a foot-wetting warm-up through the swamp and back we were set off fairly promptly. Back across the swamp and up to the bottle neck at the gate. I got boxed in at the start but rather than elbow my way through the crowd I saved my energy for later and so spent the whole race overtaking those ahead. The first climb up to Scald Law is a long slog and those who impatiently try to overtake the long conga lose energy in the heather to the side of the path. Towards the summit I saw John Blair-Fish go past and thought I should study his form. He has the most recorded finishes under the hour and is 13 years older than myself. Although he turned past the trig point before me I overtook him on the slope down to South Black Hill and stayed ahead for the rest of the race. Usually about this point I feel scooped out and done in after the long push up, but I still felt strong. (The benefit of FLM training, as I haven't run in the hills since the Skyline.)
The paths were frozen solid on the tops and you had to run just to the side to save from going your length. Coming off South Black Hill I closed the 100 yard gap to the runner ahead and went past a couple of runners on the approach to East Kip. They possibly took back the places on the climb up East Kip. Then down the slope and along to West Kip where the stiff wind was blowing sheets of sleet across the ridge. It must have been a miserable day for the marshals there who were encouraging runners a few yards further along the top than usual, before an abrupt turn allowed the steep descent to the gate. I was in a group moving fast down the hill when a young gun went haring down past us at a tremendous pace. Just as I was thinking he had mastered down-hilling I looked up again to see him cartwheeling in the long grass. This let me catch up and commend his descending skills as we piled through the gate and cantered over the only really runnable section of the race, along the flat and down to the Howe.
Then there's the lung-busting walk/run up Carnethy itself. I had been exchanging places with (and was now overtake
n by) Iona Robertson from Bellahouston. A number of spectators had shouted “first woman” as she went past but in fact she was third female after Angela and Jill from Carnethy HRC. Towards the top, the wind, howling bitterly across from the South East began to freeze important parts of my neck and I held my hand over my face for protection. It was almost possible to use the strong sidewind to sail diagonally up the hill. A friendly voice shouted hello from the shelter of the cairn at the top (Douglas) and it was with much relief that I turned the corner and let gravity pull me down the rocky slope to where the route setters cruelly insist we bound through the heather. This is the most dangerous part of the course, with the end in sight, but tired legs struggling to lift over the depth of heather required to continue down at an even pace. At last you find a thin path that isn't frozen and you can shoot down and through the gate with only the swamp to cover before the small rise at the finish. The swamp seems to have got bigger, wetter and deeper from the day's activity and having looked at my watch to see that I was nowhere near the 60 mins that a “strong club runner” would be aiming for, I was glad those around me were happy to trundle in without forcing a race to the line. I managed a pb for the course but at what is probably the lowest position for the years racing, due to a strong field, it hardly felt like any kind of a victory. I exchanged some wet clothes for dry and went to shout on friends coming in. Werner, then Sally came in looking strong; followed by Julia (in Helensburgh colours) who expressed her antipathy for the course in uncharacteristically indecorous vernacular. Gillian, less than a minute behind seemed to have enjoyed the run more, and another minute had Mary audibly panting towards the line. The Portobello Girls did well - 6th team out of nine. The boys were one sandwich short of a picnic. (Injury had forced Ricky into the position of spectator - I had a brief glimpse of him as I stumbled up Crooked Rig, and Alan also had a last minute injury.)
Then, after a shivering wait in the chilly weather, we hop onto the bus and return to Penicuik school for a plate of quiche and chips. Steam hovers above the dining room full of spent but animated competitors, exchanging horror stories of slides, bumps and twiste
d limbs. Later, strong drink will be consumed.
Peter Buchanan 63.05
Werner Kittel 74.24
Sally Scott 77.56
Julia Henderson 78.48
Gillian McKelvie 79.35
Mary Hunter 80.48
Tony Stapley 82.57Womens' Team 6th
Full results here
Carnethy website and photos herePhotos;
Douglas Young, Ian Brodie, Andrew Henderson,
Scottish Hill Runners www.shr.uk.com/
(more photos here), Carnethy Hill Running Club www.carnethy.com/Report Peter Buchanan
Just in: Sally's version of Saturday's events......
It is four years since I last ran this race. Four years is enough time to forget what it feels like to stand in the freezing cold waiting for a bus to take you to the start. Then to arrive at the start with 30 minutes to wait in the bitter wind and rain with no shelter (or toilet other than a fence) in the middle of a field. I did begin to hear myself question what I was doing there. A question which kept re-appearing in my mind throughout the race. However, it was good to see some friendly Porty faces at the start and once we were all huddled together ready to start, it didn't seem quite as bitterly cold (for a short time).
It seems unfair that before you get to the bottom of the first hill, you have no choice but to run through a bog to get your feet nice and cold and soaked through. I had forgotten how steep and never ending the first hill is. Also at this stage it is difficult to pass people as the path is narrow and the field is still quite closely packed together. In order to pass you have to use up more energy by striding through the heather beside the main path. It was great to have support from Karen and Julia's husband Andrew at this point as I wasn't enjoying what I was doing.
The top of the hill was hidden in a cloud. Once you reached it, you were suddenly battling against a freezing cold wind with hail and sleet that blew you sideways, mmmm pleasant! For the first time since the bog, I found myself actually running downhill if you can call it that, more shuffling as fast as I could without slipping or falling over. Then came the next ascent, fortunately easier and I could almost get to the top without stopping to walk.
I can't remember but I think it was the 3rd or 4th hill which caused me to laugh to myself and question once again what on earth I was doing. The top was a really sharp narrow hairpin bend. It was blowing a sideways gale and it was almost impossible to stop and queue to double back for the descent without losing balance and falling over. I was pleased at the end when Mary also admitted to laughing out loud a few times throughout the race.
The run between the 4th and final hill was actually very pleasant, it was sheltered from the wind and rain and I was enjoying running at speed, rather than climbing or shuffling. However, this was short lived when I saw the final hill. I had forgotten what a bu**er of a hill this one is, it is one of those hills where you think you are nearly at the top, then all of a sudden you see that the summit is a long way away, or in this case, disappears into a cloud. I was very surprised to see Ricky halfway up the hill taking photos. The weather was terrible, it was freezing cold, wet and windy. I think I managed a wave and smile, I was more shocked at someone actually choosing to be there!
I was even more shocked to see Douglas at the top of the final hill. I could barely make him out through the mist, but yes it was him! Perhaps the hardest part of the race was getting down off the last hill. Bounding through heather on a steep diagonal isn't great for tired ankles. There was one small stretch of scree which was a welcome relief as you could slide down it. Towards the bottom, I began to hear someone cheering my name, it was a great feeling to be so close to the finish. Karen was there cheering 'Brilliant Sally!' I reckon she would still have been saying that if I were last off the hill, she is such a great supporter.
Because I hadn't been doing much actual running, I found that my running legs were strong as I made my way back across the field towards the finish line. The muddy bog seemed deeper and wetter on the way back, but I didn't care it was nearly over. I saw Peter cheering me on as I ran towards the finish line and remembered thinking there was something missing - he had no camera in his hand. Surely I hadn't finished that close to him that he hadn’t had time to get his camera? I later found out he had forgotten it and finished 14 minutes ahead of me!
I don’t know how I managed, but I had forgotten my watch so had absolutely no idea of my finishing time. It was 77m 56s, a PB by 9 minutes, so I was very pleased with that. Back to the High School for a well earned plate of quiche and chips before heading home to a hot bath. Will I be doing it again next year? Probably!
Report Sally Scott
